


I Wish (You Were Mine)

by holcene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, One Shot, just 9k of fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holcene/pseuds/holcene
Summary: Lexa just may be a bit of a hopeless romantic and Clarke just may need a bit of help in Calculus. When Lexa's love letter mistakenly ends up in Clarke's locker instead of Costia's, she somehow finds herself at the mercy of Clarke's wiles. It's definitely a lot more than she bargained for.Based on the Tumblr prompt: "I put my love letter in your locker by mistake. It was meant for your friend, not you. Can I have it back now?"





	I Wish (You Were Mine)

**Author's Note:**

> first time i've written anything in almost 4 years, but a couple of tequila shots later and here i am. not totally satisfied with the end, but if i look at this anymore i might gouge my eyes out so please forgive me if it feels rushed.

Lexa realizes she’s made a very, _very_ grave mistake about two minutes after she’s made it. It’s all Anya’s fault. Anya and her stupid intel that was, in fact, not even remotely close to being right, but was, in fact, so wrong it hurt Lexa on a level she could hardly explain much less monologue in her head about to a bunch of readers on a fanfiction website. No, all Lexa can do is watch helplessly as a girl who is definitely not Costia opens up her locker. The very same locker that just two minutes ago Lexa had carefully slipped a heartfelt three paragraph long (with proper grammar and punctuation, mind you) love letter into. 

“Clarke!” Lexa calls, practically colliding into said girl’s back in her haste to get to her before Clarke could discover all the disgustingly romantic thoughts Lexa had written down on scented paper from the local Hallmark. “How’s your day going? It’s very nice outside. So nice, actually, that I think you should come outside with me right now. To look at how nice it is. Outside. Away from your locker.”

Clarke turns around coolly, eyebrow arched and mouth curved in what Lexa can only describe as smug. Lexa feels her heart drop. 

She is fucked. 

“Lexa Woods,” Clarke practically sings, “I would love to go outside with you.” Lexa, smartly, holds her sigh of relief, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “But only if you tell me how you think my eyes are an endless window into my soul that you could look out of forever and still never know everything about.”

Lexa feels her face flush in embarrassment. This was not happening. In all the scenarios she had conjured up when she came up with this idea, her love letter ending up in the hands of one annoying Clarke Griffin was not one of them. 

See, Clarke had the irritating habit of being as obnoxious as possible with all things concerning one Lexa Woods. Lexa isn’t even sure how it started. On the very first day of summer school before freshman year, Lexa had sat in the open seat next to Clarke. They had gotten along just fine—Lexa even lent Clarke her pencil— but then suddenly the next day Clarke had turned a complete 180. Her mission now to get on Lexa’s nerves as much as possible in every non threatening way possible. Kicking and pushing at Lexa’s chair if she sat behind her just to get a rise out of her, chewing her gum loudly in Lexa’s direction because she knew that nothing annoyed Lexa more than overzealous mouth sounds, debating Lexa on every question she answered until the teacher had to pull them aside and tell them to ‘relax a little, give the others a chance to talk.’ Three years later and Clarke’s mission objective hadn’t changed much. 

“Look,” Lexa starts, breathing deeply to gather herself, “as you can probably tell, that letter isn’t meant for you. This is just a stupid mix up. Now can I please just have it back so we can forget all about this?”

Lexa’s aware she’s basically begging, but she’s desperate and the sooner she gets that letter out of Clarke’s hand, the sooner she can put it into Costia’s. Naturally, however, Clarke never makes Lexa’s life easy. 

“No.”

Lexa grits her teeth. “What do you mean ‘no?’” 

Clarke closes her locker and leans back, one arm crossed against her stomach while the other holds Lexa’s letter tauntingly. 

“I think I’ll keep it.”

Lexa narrows her eyes, counts to three to control her breathing, and spits, “And why the hell would you want to do that?”

Clarke, to her credit, at least has the decency to look a little bit guilty. 

“I need help in Calculus,” she says and Lexa almost forgets her anger in favor of confusion. 

“Okay?” 

Clarke rolls her eyes as if _she’s_ the one with any right to be annoyed by this conversation. Lexa’s the one whose heart is on the line! 

“I want you to help me, and in return I’ll help you out with your crush on Costia.”

Lexa almost snorts before she remembers herself. 

“I don’t need your help, I already wrote that letter,” she replies confidently. 

Clarke laughs. Actually laughs. 

“Yeah, no. You need my help,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “Trust me. As someone who’s known Costia as long as I have, this,” she waves around the letter, “Isn’t going to work.”

Lexa crosses her arms, feeling offended in ways she never thought imaginable. It took her two days to finish that letter. She poured her heart and soul into it. Buying the paper alone took almost three hours inside of Hallmark with Anya grumbling angrily beside her the whole time as Lexa weighed the benefits between pattern or no pattern. 

“So what do you have in mind then?” Lexa asks warily much to Clarke’s chagrin. 

“I’ll tell you if you help me pass the Calculus test next friday.”

Lexa wants to say no. Her pride is telling her to just forget the letter and damn Clarke to hell, but then she remembers that this is Clarke. The very same Clarke who, in freshman year, somehow convinced Lexa that school started a whole week earlier than it actually did. The very same Clarke who, in sophomore year, somehow coerced Lexa into doing her homework for an entire week without getting anything in return. The very same Clarke who currently holds Lexa’s love life in the palm of her hands. 

Lexa has no choice and she’d be angry about it if she wasn’t so used to Clarke getting whatever she wants. 

“Fine,” she grumbles, “but we start today. I know you, and you’re going to need all the help you can get if you want to pass. Come on.”

Lexa walks away, confident that she’d managed to at least offend Clarke somewhat. It lasts for only a moment, though, because as she’s exiting the hallway, Costia enters. She smiles prettily at Lexa, giving her a passing greeting, and in the time it takes for Lexa’s brain to catch up with reality, Costia is already gone behind her to the locker directly across from Clarke’s. (Fucking Anya and her horrible sense of direction; Lexa never should have trusted her with something as sacred as this.)

Clarke pats Lexa on the back, spurring Lexa back to life from where she had stood frozen, and shakes her head fondly. 

“This is going to be a lot harder for me than it is for you,” Clarke sighs dramatically, walking away to the parking lot. 

Lexa can’t even argue with her. 

 

\--

Nearly an hour later, they’re huddled over Clarke’s dining room table and Lexa is hard-pressed to admit that tutoring Clarke is easier than expected. Not that Clarke sees it that way. She won’t even admit that Lexa is tutoring her. 

“It’s not tutoring,” she denied vehemently, “You’re just helping me study.”

“What do you think tutoring even _is_ , Clarke?”

But Lexa had no interest in discussing the semantics of the concept of tutoring versus helping so had reluctantly let it go. Despite the rocky start, Clarke has proven to be a good student, listening attentively when Lexa explained the equations and exhausting all her efforts before asking for help when she was stuck. Lexa supposes there’s a reason why Clarke has always ranked second to her in their classes, not that she’d ever tell Clarke as much. 

“Okay,” Clarke says, setting her pencil down and pushing her paper towards Lexa, “I think I got it.”

Lexa scans over Clarke’s work, biting her tongue to keep from remarking on Clarke’s messy scrawl. She has the print of a doctor, Lexa thinks amusedly, most likely adopting it from her surgeon of a mother.

“Looks good,” Lexa slides the paper back, ignoring Clarke’s pleased expression. “I think that’s enough for today. We can go over more tomorrow, though honestly, it doesn’t seem like you really need my help. If you just study, you’ll do fine.”

Clarke shrugs, putting her things back into her bag. “I hate studying. You’re helping me stay on track.”

“So you’re just using me.”

Clarke smiles innocently. “Of course not. We’re just two friends helping each other out.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair to eye Clarke warily, choosing not to focus on Clarke’s casual use of the F-word. The G-rated F-word. 

“Speaking of that, what was wrong with my letter?”

Clarke raises a brow. “What wasn’t wrong with your letter.” 

“It was from the heart!”

“It read like a Shakespeare play, but less compelling and somehow even more tragic.”

Lexa sputters for half a second, which is half a second too long because as soon as she does, Clarke looks at her knowingly and Lexa flushes an embarrassing shade of red. Lexa wants to argue that Shakespeare isn’t even _that_ compelling, but that’s besides the point. She moves on because arguing with Clarke about anything tends to be a useless battle. 

“Fine then. What do you have in mind?”

Clarke considers her for a moment. “Well, first of all, have you ever even said more than two words to her?”

“I have!” Lexa answers quickly, a little too quickly for Clarke not to take notice. “Well, we’ve had a few conversations here and there,” Lexa admits, “but she was nice and she listened. Not too many people around here are like that.”

It’s true. Excluding Anya, the majority of Lexa’s friendships at school are superficial at best. That’s just how high school is though, Lexa’s learned. Friendship because of close proximity rather than any real commonality. The day they graduate will most likely be the last time she sees any of these people and that’s just fine with her. But Costia. Costia was nice. And pretty. And kind. 

There was once when Lexa had been having a particularly hard day and Costia had stumbled upon her, noticing the dark circles under Lexa’s eyes and the heavy hunch of her shoulders and offered Lexa a piece of her candy. It was small, but it meant a lot and Lexa’s been unwittingly swooning ever since.

Nice _and_ pretty? Color Lexa gay as fuck. 

Clarke smiles in understanding, but something flashes in her eyes that Lexa isn’t quick enough to decipher. “She is disgustingly perfect, isn’t she? Well all right then,” Clarke decides, “Operation: Get Lexa the Girl is officially in effect.”

Clarke’s smile turns wicked and Lexa is suddenly hit with the feeling that this may be a terrible idea after all. 

“First,” Clarke claps, standing so abruptly Lexa almost jumps, “Let’s do something about your very clear lack of game.”

Lexa practically squeaks, “My game?”

 

\--

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Lexa’s cornered Clarke at her locker the next day, fretting nervously with the straps of her backpack as Clarke nonchalantly puts her books away. Lexa’s two seconds away from a nervous meltdown and Clarke is more concerned with what books she needs for her next period than she is with Lexa’s being. What a great friend. 

(Although, if Lexa’s being honest, is Clarke really her friend? They’ve known each other for the entirety of their high school career, but other than Clarke doing her best to annoy Lexa at every opportunity, Lexa’s not quite sure she’d quantify their relationship as ‘friends.’ Maybe acquaintances? Or an even better cliche: rivals? She’d have to stew on it another day and not while she’s supposed to be narrating her own story to faceless people on the Internet.) 

“Relax,” Clarke says. She shrugs her backpack on and closes her locker. “It’s going to be fine. I’m just going to ask her if she even knows who you are.”

“Clarke!” 

“Kidding! Kidding.” Clarke holds her hands up placatingly. “Seriously, I’ve got this. I’ve known Costia since we were like five. I’m just going to bring you up.” Lexa gives her look and Clarke amends, “Casually. I’ll bring you up casually. Now go stand over there or something and try not to be weird.”

Clarke pushes her away before Lexa can even try to defend her honor. When Lexa glances over her shoulder, Clarke is approaching Costia at her locker. Costia smiles at her arrival and Lexa wishes more than anything that she was standing closer so she could hear what they’re talking about, but then she remembers Clarke’s reminder not to be weird and she stays where she is. 

She pulls her phone out, bringing up her text message thread with Anya from the night before—a series of middle finger emojis from her and an ungodly amount of question marks from Anya followed by Lexa’s recount of the mixed up locker debacle and Anya’s reply of “ _LOL my b but i saw you get in griffin’s car after school so i’d say it still went well ;)._ ” Lexa hadn’t even deigned her with a response to that. 

Lexa’s midway through a stupid tumblr post about why everyone should blacklist some movie because some actor said some dumb thing when her phone is plucked unceremoniously from her hand. 

“Stop trying to fake being cool by pretending you’re on your phone,” Clarke admonishes gravely. She looks down at Lexa’s phone and purses her lips, “Are people really mad that he likes pineapples on pizza?” 

Lexa shrugs. “It’s a serious issue.” 

“It’s a pizza topping.”

“Yes, a serious issue.”

Clarke looks at her for a long moment before shaking her head and handing Lexa her phone back, most likely as disappointed with her generation as Lexa is. 

“So I talked to Costia,” Clarke starts and then pauses for so long Lexa think she might die from impatience. 

“And?” Lexa prompts.

“And she thinks you’re cute.”

Lexa’s heart stops and then starts again. It thuds dangerously fast against her chest and she’s vaguely aware that her cheeks are spread as widely as possible from the force of her smile.

“Really?” 

“No, she had no idea who you were.” Lexa’s heart stops and doesn’t start again, but before she can move on into an all out lesbian meltdown, Clarke continues, “And then I pointed over at you looking _so cool_ on your phone and she said you were cute.” 

Lexa slaps Clarke on the arm, feeling the full effects of the unexpected emotional whiplash Clarke has put her through. 

“You’re the worst.”

Clarke just laughs, looping her arm through Lexa’s as she leads her down the hallway. 

“Hey, it’s a start. You’re on her radar now. I’ll do some more inside work for you and pretty soon you’ll be all set to ask her out.”

Lexa stops just outside their calculus classroom. She looks at Clarke’s side profile and the way her hair frames her face in a way so unnecessarily pretty it shouldn't be allowed and asks quietly, “Tell me honestly—do you really think I have a chance?”

Clarke looks her in the eye, no trace of her earlier mirth. When she answers it’s with a conviction Lexa has only seen her with a handful of times. Later, Lexa would remember that each of those times were when she’d made a stupid decision because Clarke Griffin told her to.

“I think anybody would be lucky to have you, and if she can’t see that than she’s an idiot who isn’t worth your time.”

Lexa feels her heart flutter and tries not to dwell on what that means. Whenever Clarke Griffin is concerned, Lexa’s learned that some things should just be left alone (especially matters of the heart). 

\--

Lexa’s in the middle of explaining a more difficult integral problem when she realizes that Clarke isn’t even paying attention. She’s just staring. At Lexa. 

“Clarke…?” Lexa trails, growing uncomfortable beneath Clarke’s intense gaze. 

Clarke’s got her cheek resting against her palm, left hand idly tracing the edge of their calculus textbook. “You know, your eyes look kind of blue sometimes. Like a pale blue, almost grey at times. It’s pretty.” Lexa flushes, unused to someone being so forward with their compliments.

“Thanks,” Lexa mumbles. She turns back to their textbook pointedly, changing the subject quickly before Clarke can say anything else about her physical features. “So integrals are pretty easy once you get used to them-”

“Have you ever been on a date?”

Lexa chokes on air.

“What? No. I mean- Where the hell is that coming from?”

Clarke just shrugs. “If you like Costia you should ask her out on a date, but I need to know whether or not you’ve been on one before so I can give you tips.”

When Lexa answers it’s murmured so low and hidden beneath an unnecessary cough. 

“What was that?” 

More murmuring and coughing. 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You realize that answering like that has already told me what I already knew.”

Lexa glares at her. “And what would that be?”

Clarke smirks. “That you definitely haven’t.”

Lexa can feel her cheeks warm but she refuses to give Clarke the satisfaction of thinking she’s embarrassed her. 

“Not everyone wants to date as soon as they hit puberty, okay. Some people have more important things to worry about.”

Lexa crosses her arms and Clarke just rolls her eyes again. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke dismisses with a wave of her hand. “Since you’ve never been on a date we should go on one right now.”

“What? Like, _right now_ , right now?”

“No, Lexa, tomorrow,” Clarke answers, already standing up and putting her things away. She beckons Lexa to follow her. “Yes, right now. Come on.”

“But calculus…” Lexa whispers helplessly, doing nothing as Clarke wiggles her car keys at her and disappears down the hallway towards the front door. 

And not for the first time, Lexa wonders what the hell she’s gotten herself into. 

\--

“Dates are about getting to know each other,” Clarke says as she dips one end of her french fry into ketchup and the other end into ranch. Lexa tries and fails to control her expression of disgust. They’re in a small diner not too far from where they’d been studying at Clarke’s house, and Lexa’s been forced to bare witness to Clarke commit one food atrocity after another in true American fashion.

“It’s good if you have similar interests, “ Clarke barrels on, pointedly ignoring Lexa’s discomfort. “Costia’s a cheerleader and you’re in Mock Trial. Not exactly the high school definition of a ‘cool’ extracurricular activity, but luckily for you our school is annoyingly progressive so that doesn’t really matter anymore. However, those are still two vastly different things, so come on, tell me. What else do you like to do?” 

“Uh,” Lexa folds the napkin in front of her, mulling over what to say that won’t make her seem like she spends all of her time on the Internet reblogging pictures onto her aesthetic blog and looking at cute pictures of baby animals. Lexa settles on, “I like music.”

Clarke practically beams. “Me too! What do you listen to? I bet you’re into that weird alternative indie stuff, huh? Or maybe jazz? I could totally see jazz. You’ve got that whole cool, mysterious thing going for you, like you spend all your time at swanky jazz clubs doing spoken word poetry every Monday night in a leather jacket and Ray Bans.”

Lexa’s not sure whether to be pleased or offended at Clarke’s perception of her. She’s not sure if even Clarke knows whether she intended that to be a compliment or not. 

“I like the classics. The Clash, Bowie, stuff like that.”

Clarke’s eyes go wide, abandoning her fries in favor of leaning forward across the table in excitement. 

“No shit. Me too. Best Bowie album on three. One, two, three-”

“Ziggy Stardust.” They both answer at the same time. 

They smile conspiratorially at each other as if they’ve just been let in on a secret that no one else knows about. For all Lexa knows, they might as well have. 

“I never would have pegged you for a Classic Rock girl,” Clarke says, picking up another french fry. 

Lexa shrugs. “I could say the same for you. You were once a cheerleader were you not? Not to stereotype, but I would have assumed you didn't know anything outside of the Top 40s.”

Clarke’s face scrunches in distaste. “You’re not entirely off the mark. I can appreciate a good Ariana Grande song every now and then. Hey! Don’t laugh, she’s not that bad!” Clarke throws a fry at her as Lexa attempts to stifle her giggles. 

“No, no there’s nothing with that. We all need a good pop song to dance along to every once in a while.”

“Exactly! And besides, hating things just because it’s popular is stupid. Newsflash, it doesn’t make you cool just because you roll your sleeves and think the Arctic Monkeys are the pinnacle of rock.”

“I used to be like that,” Lexa confesses guiltily and Clarke throws another fry at her. 

“Why am I not even a little bit surprised.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, both smiling and pleased at the turn in their conversation. It’s only when the silence has stretched on for too long and Lexa realizes that she’s been staring, transfixed, at the blue of Clarke’s eye that Lexa remembers this is supposed to be about Costia. 

“Right, so,” Lexa clears her throat, looking down at her folded napkin again, “What kind of music does Costia like?” 

Clarke seems to remember herself as well, shaking her head briefly before leaning back.  
“I’m not sure,” Clarke answers. Her smile is kind, but there’s something else there that Lexa decides to ignore instead of confront. She’d rather not think about the hidden meanings in Clarke’s smiles and why asking about Costia feels like she’s just killed the mood. Whatever mood that even was. “You should ask her yourself. Amongst other things. Get to know her and all that.”

Lexa nods, suddenly uncertain for reasons she’s not entirely sure of, but Clarke is a force to be reckoned with and plowing over potentially awkward social situations is what she’s always excelled at. 

(Once at an unfortunate Key Club event where only Lexa, Clarke and a lonely freshman had shown up, Clarke had taken the visibly uncomfortable kid under her wing, spewing out lame jokes and making idle conversation whenever possible. That girl had enjoyed the experience so much she’s practically running Key Club now ahead of all the remaining juniors and seniors. Lexa, on the other hand, hasn’t returned to a meeting since. As far as she knows, Clarke is the same.)

“So what do you think of your first date?”

“What? I thought- But this isn’t- I. What?” Lexa sputters. This isn’t an actual date is it? If so, Lexa’s really been failing spectacularly. She’s not even wearing her good jeans. 

“Relax,” Clarke laughs, “it’s just a friendly first date. That way if Costia asks you can say you’ve already been on one and it’ll take the pressure off. Now, come on. Tell me. How amazing of a date am I?”

“The absolute best. I’m swooning as we speak,” Lexa deadpans. Clarke just sticks her tongue out at her. 

“Trust me, if this was for real you’d really be saying that.” Clarke winks and Lexa rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, a fond smile forcing its way out of her against her will.

“If only I was so lucky,” Lexa says and tries to ignore the beating in her chest that’s saying she’s telling the truth.

\--

“So you and Griffin.”

Lexa jumps at the sudden slam of her locker, only just able to remove her arm from where it’d been reaching inside for her book. 

“Jesus, Anya. You could have taken my arm out.”

Anya’s only response is an exaggerated eye roll. “Don’t be a baby. Now, answer the question.”

Lexa furrows her brows, going to work in putting in her locker combination again. 

“What question?”

A dramatic sigh. “You and Griffin. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing. I’m helping her study for the Calculus test on Friday.”

At Anya’s silence, Lexa chances a look at her. Anya has her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. Her way of saying she doesn’t believe Lexa’s shit for even a second. 

“And that means eating lunch with her and taking over each other’s Snapchats all the time like you’re a couple of preteens in love.”

“We do not--”

“Don’t deny it, or are you forgetting I’m one of three people who even looks at your Snapchat story? Seriously, Lexa, you even spent the weekend with her.”

“We were studying!”

“Oh yeah? Did that happen before or after your Harry Potter marathon; which, by the way, thanks for the invite to that. It’s like we’re not even friends anymore.”

“Who’s the dramatic baby now?” Lexa scoffs. “Look, I help her study. We hang out afterwards. It’s not a big deal.”

Lexa shuts her locker and walks away, aware that Anya isn’t going to just let this go because she’s Anya and she knows Lexa better than anyone else. 

“I thought you hated her?” Anya questions, eying Lexa peculiarly. 

“I never said I hated her. I just thought she was stubborn and annoying.”

“And you don’t anymore?”

Lexa considers this for a moment before replying, “No I still think that, but she’s got great taste in pop culture.”

“What about Costia?” At that Lexa stops. 

“What _about_ Costia?”

Anya raises her brows as if the answer is obvious, but Lexa stayed up late last night talking to Clarke on the phone about why J.K. Rowling saying Dumbledore was gay _after_ she’d finished the books didn’t count as true gay representation until they at least made it explicit in the upcoming movies, and she can't be bothered with trying to piece together what Anya is very pointedly not saying.

“I thought you liked her?”

“I do like her!”

“You sure about that? Because from my and everyone else’s point of view it looks like you and Griffin are together.”

“Seriously?”

“Duh,” Anya rolls her eyes again. “Maybe you should, you know, start spending time with the girl you supposedly like,” Anya pauses, giving Lexa a considering look before continuing carefully, “Unless, Griffin is who you like….?”’

Lexa is a silent for a second too long—an answer in itself.

Anya prods gently, “Is she?”

Lexa sighs, feeling tired in more ways than one. 

“No. I don’t know. Look, I’ve got to go I have to talk to Kane about something in History. I’ll see you later.”

Lexa walks away before Anya can respond, head filled with too many thoughts and feelings she thought she’d gotten over years ago. 

\--

Heeding Anya’s advice and feeling strangely guilty, Lexa foregos lunch with Clarke like they had been doing lately and instead tracks down Costia at her locker. 

“Hey, Costia,” Lexa greets, giving her a small smile when Costia jumps from being startled. 

“Oh! Lexa, right? Hey!” Costia’s smile is wide and unbidden. Her hair curls around her face prettily and her skin is dark and sun-kissed from the hours she spends outside for cheerleading. 

Lexa’s palms are sweaty from nerves, but not in the way she expected. She'd blown off Clarke with a quick text saying she had something to do, but here she is talking to Costia and the idea of Clarke finding out the truth has her heart racing in anxiety. 

“I was going to get lunch,” Lexa manages and winces because obviously it's lunch what else is she going to do? “Do you want to, maybe, join me?”

Costia tilts her head to the side, eying Lexa in apprehension. “You're not eating with Clarke?” 

Is that what people think now? That Lexa always eats with her? That her lunch is now a period of time reserved for only Clarke? 

Lexa thinks she should be unsettled by this information, but all she does, instead, is shrug noncommittally. 

“Not today.”

Costia seems to accept this answer, closing her locker and turning to Lexa expectantly. 

“Okay, lead the way.” 

Costia is nice. Very nice. She listens and waits for Lexa to finish speaking before offering her own thoughts. She likes cheerleading because she loves the feeling of being thrown in the air. She loves watching professional soccer games on the couch with her dad and she can name every Beatles album in order of when they were released. By all accounts, she's even more perfect than Lexa thought. 

But something is missing. Lexa’s nerves have eased and she's enjoying Costia's company immensely, but there's nothing there that suggests Lexa wants anything more. If this had been a week ago, Lexa would have been a stuttering mess and Anya would have shaken her head and called her a gay catastrophe. But now, Lexa looks at Costia and sees nothing more than the promise of a great friendship. 

Just what the hell happened between last week and now?

Clarke, her brain yells at her, Clarke happened.

Lexa shakes that thought away quickly. 

“You know,” Costia starts, finishing off the last of her sandwich and brushing away the crumbs, “I'm kind of surprised you wanted to get lunch with me. Every time I talk to Clarke she won't shut up about you. I kind of thought you two were, you know…” Costia waves her hand around suggestively.

Lexa blushes, turning away from Costia's knowing gaze. 

“We're not,” she admits, ignoring the stutter in her heart that tells how much she wants that to not be true, “I'm just helping her study for the Calc test Friday.”

Costia arches a brow. “She's been talking about you for a while. Our families have dinner together once a month and she'd always go on and on about this Alexandria girl she couldn't stand. Took me awhile, but when she pointed you out last week, I realized it was you.”

“She talked about me?” 

Costia laughs. “Don't look so pleased, most of the time it was bad things, but I could always tell the truth.” Costia smirks. “So how long have you liked her?” 

Lexa should feel called out, but there’s no point denying it. She twiddles her thumbs together, something about Costia’s kindness making her want to be truthful for once. She sighs heavily and answers, “I don't really know. Since I first met her probably? She was always doing stuff to annoy me though so I just figured she hated me or something. I thought I got over it, but now we've been spending all this time together and I realized I haven’t.” 

“And now you're eating lunch with me to make her jealous?” Costia doesn't say it accusingly, but Lexa still feels guilty nonetheless. 

“Well, the thing is…” Lexa trails nervously, rubbing at her neck. Costia just nods encouragingly so Lexa launches into a full explanation, starting with the beginning of her superficial crush on her and ending with the deal Lexa made with Clarke. 

Costia's silent through all of it, expression unreadable. When Lexa finishes, all Costia does is laugh and say, “Wow all that trouble for little old me? I must say though, Clarke was wrong—I probably would have liked the letter you wrote for me.”

She winks at Lexa who can only blush an embarrassing shade of red. 

“It was a bit…. excessive,” Lexa relents and Costia laughs again. 

“So what will you do now? I think this conversation has made us both realize we'd probably make better friends than a couple.” 

Lexa shrugs. “I don't know yet. I guess we'll see after the test on Friday.” 

Costia pats Lexa on the knee, jumping off the wall they'd been sitting on while they ate. 

“Well, good luck. Clarke's amazing, you'd be lucky to have her. And she could definitely do worse as well.” Costia sticks her tongue out at Lexa's playful shove. “You should come to Luna’s party Saturday. Clarke will be there along with half the school. Maybe all you need is some liquid courage to get the ball rolling.” 

“I'll think about it.” 

“Good. I'll see you around?”

Lexa nods, watches quietly as Costia walks off, and chooses not to focus on the crushing reality that the girl she’s actually had a crush on for the better part of three years probably thinks Lexa ditched her for another girl. 

Lexa groans. It’s going to be a long day.

\--

The silence is killing her. Clarke had greeted Lexa with nothing but a curt nod after school that day and they had ridden together to Clarke’s place for studying (read: tutoring) in tense quiet. Now as they sit together at Clarke’s dining room table, they haven’t said a single thing non-Calculus related and it’s driving Lexa mad.

She’s two seconds away from breaking the silence herself (to apologize or to make up an excuse—she isn’t sure) when Clarke suddenly speaks up, “So how was lunch with Costia today?”

Her eyes are kind and her smile gentle. Her arms are crossed on the table, worksheet on integrals and derivatives pushed away from her, and for all intents and purposes nothing seems off, but Lexa knows better than to foolishly think that’s the case. 

“Good. We talked a lot. She’s nice and we have a lot in common,” Lexa answers truthfully. 

Nothing in Clarke’s demeanor changes. “That’s great, Lexa! Did you ask her out finally? I’ve been talking you up, you know?” 

Lexa does know. She painfully knows. Instead of saying that, Lexa replies, “Well, no. I actually wanted to tell you-”

The sound of the garage opening and a car driving inside steals their attention. 

“My mom’s early,” Clarke murmurs as they hear the unmistakable sound of the garage closing. 

The door leading to it opens and Clarke’s mom walks in. She poses an impressive figure. As one of the leading surgeons at the local hospital, she’s regarded quite highly on this side of town. Even Lexa’s aunt knows of her from the time Abigail Griffin had a small feature in the local newspaper (Lexa’s aunt was also only one of two people Lexa knew who still read the paper—Lexa’s uncle being the other one).

Mrs. Griffin eyes the two girls taking up her dining room table curiously, placing her bag and keys on the kitchen table and removing her coat. 

“Hey, mom,” Clarke says, casting a lingering glance at Lexa next to her. There’s a nervous energy about her now that her mom is in the room. Almost as if she doesn’t want her to mom see Lexa. And how curious would that be if that was the case?

“Clarke,” her mom greets. She turns to Lexa, “I’m not sure we’ve met before…”

“Lexa.”

“Lexa,” Mrs. Griffin repeats. “You girls are studying?”

Clarke sighs. “Yeah, we have a calculus test Friday.”

Lexa bites her tongue to keep from mentioning that it’s mostly Clarke studying with Lexa helping her. Something tells her that this is a conversation she should do her best to stay out of. 

“I see,” her mother nods and just like that the tension in her shoulders drops. She pads her way over to the fridge, looking inside regretfully, “I haven’t had time to go to the grocery lately. I could order you guys some pizza for dinner?”

Lexa opens her mouth to answer, but Clarke beats her to it. “Actually mom, that won’t be necessary. We’re just about finished and Lexa needs to be home soon.”

They’re actually nowhere near finished and Lexa’s curfew isn’t until 10pm for a school night. Smartly, she once again keeps her mouth shut. 

Clarke’s already packing up their stuff and Lexa misses whatever form of acknowledgement Mrs. Griffin gives them before she tiredly makes her way upstairs. 

“So that was your mom,” Lexa states, carefully placing her Calculus textbook inside her backpack. 

Clarke shrugs. “She’s kind of a workaholic. I don’t usually see her much during the week.” Clarke doesn’t say it with all the bitterness of a kid who’s been ignored by their only living parent, just a casual acceptance that Lexa knows meant that this was something Clarke had gotten over a long time ago. Clarke’s only mentioned it once (and it had been so casually and passively at the time that Lexa didn’t even realize it until later), but Lexa knows her father died sometime when she was a kid. Lexa feels her heart beat painfully in her chest at the thought of Clarke going through this alone. But more than that there’s also respect. Clarke was dealt a shitty hand and she's learned to overcome it. Not many people can say the same. 

They gather the rest of their stuff quickly, leaving Clarke’s house without another word. They don't speak much on the ride to Lexa’s house, and it’s only when Lexa's thanked her and she’s exiting the car that Clarke stops her. 

“Hey,” Clarke calls, rolling down her passenger side window, “I just want you to know that I'm happy for you and Costia.” 

“Clarke-” 

“No really, I am. I'm glad you finally got to spend some time with her today.” 

“Clarke-” 

“Anyway,” Clarke interrupts, fingers drumming along to the Bowie song playing through the speakers, “I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Only a few more days left until the big test. I'll text you later. Bye!”

Before Lexa can get another word in, Clarke's speeding off down the road. Lexa groans because now she has to find another way to casually mention that she has no interest in Costia beside wanting to debate controversial Real Madrid vs. Barcelona games. 

But of course, in true Clarke Griffin fashion, she never makes anything in Lexa’s life easy.

\--

In the days that follow, Lexa never manages to tell Clarke the truth. Between Clarke always finding a way to derail the conversation to something she _knows_ Lexa can’t not talk about (intersectional feminism and the increasingly hostile political climate are Lexa’s weakness, okay) and actual last minute cramming for the fast approaching Calculus test, there hasn’t been much room for Lexa to just offhandedly slip in that she’s kind of had a crush on Clarke for practically three years and would really prefer to date her instead. 

Before she even realizes it, it’s Friday and Lexa’s anxiously waiting by Clarke’s locker after school to hear how her Calculus test went. Their class periods rotate on a weekly basis and Clarke had the added benefit of having her Calculus class last this week (meanwhile, Lexa had the unfortunate luck of having it first, so she and Clarke had met during lunch to go over all the material that had shown up on Lexa’s class’s test and discuss any possible material that may show up on Clarke’s).

Now, Lexa’s close to picking up on the disgusting habit of biting at her nails just to have a distraction. As she’s weighing the pros and cons of doing just that, Clarke practically slams her against the lockers with the force of her hug.

“I killed that test!” Clarke beams, smile wide and just for Lexa. 

Lexa feels every disgustingly cheesy thought pour into her mind at once. Thoughts of how beautiful Clarke’s eyes are shimmering with excitement. How breathtaking her smile is when it’s full and unrestrained like it is. How Lexa could make a home for herself in Clarke’s arms and never feel an ounce of unhappiness again. 

Ignoring all that, Lexa calmly responds, “That’s great, Clarke! Guess all that ‘helping’ really paid off. I’m a pretty great ‘helper’ if I do say so myself.”

Clarke shakes her head, shoving at Lexa’s shoulder fondly. “Whatever, dork.”

For a moment, they just stand there grinning stupidly at each other like a couple of lovestruck teenagers until Clarke suddenly takes a step back. 

On instinct, Lexa’s brows furrow, but before she can voice her confusion, Clarke declares determinedly, “So I guess it’s time I held up my end of the bargain. Tomorrow at Costia’s party, we’re going to initiate the final stage of Operation: Get Lexa the Girl.” 

Lexa’s heart sinks to the floor. “No, wait! Clarke-”

“Don’t worry, Lex. I got this.”

It’s said with all the confidence in the world and all Lexa can do is nod dumbly, following behind Clarke as she leads them to the parking lot.. 

Fuck. She’s definitely screwed now. 

\--

Clarke meets Lexa at her house at exactly 8 o’clock, takes one look at her, and immediately marches up to Lexa’s room to rummage through her closet. Anya’s there on her bed, watching in amusement as Clarke vetoes every one of Lexa’s outfit choices.

“Why do you own so much flannel? It’s like you’re actually trying to be a stereotype.” 

Anya has the audacity to cackle. “You should have seen her _before_ she came out. It was like walking into a bat cave but instead of bats it was all Hot Topic memorabilia.”

Lexa launches a pillow at her head, put out at being betrayed like this. It’s not like Anya didn’t have an equally embarrassing goth stage complete with studded cuffs and an unfortunate choppy haircut. She even wore a fake lip ring and adamantly refused to be near anything resembling color. (Seventh grade was a dark time for everyone.)

“At least I didn’t wear black lipstick and pretend like I didn’t secretly listen to Paramore every night.” 

Anya scowls. “No, you just wore an obscene amount of dark eyeshadow and mascara so you looked like a walking raccoon.”

Before Lexa can taunt back, Clarke loudly exclaims, “Ah ha!” and pulls from the recesses of Lexa’s closet a simple dark henley shirt.

“Here,” she says, throwing the shirt at Lexa, “wear this with those ripped jeans you never wear but look ridiculously hot in.”

Lexa blushes a furious shade of red, pointedly ignoring Anya’s knowing smirk as she locates the pair of jeans from her drawer and slips into the bathroom to change. 

It’s a simple outfit, but Lexa likes it. It’s casual and nice enough, perfect for a high school party. Lexa’s kind of surprised she’s never worn this shirt before when it works so well on her. Anya and Clarke seem to think so as well, letting out low appreciative hums when she walks out. 

“Damn,” Clarke whistles. “Who knew you had it in you? Now let me just see your hair…” Lexa remains impressively still as Clarke runs her fingers through Lexa’s hair. Lexa definitely does not stare at the beauty mole above Clarke’s lips or the way her eyes narrow in concentration as she works through Lexa’s locks. Definitely not.

“There,” Clarke announces, stepping back to admire her work. Anya comes to stand next to her, arms crossed in silent approval. 

“I’ve got to say, Lex. You’re actually not half bad when you don’t look like you shop at Lesbian Lumberjacks United.”

Lexa glares at her, choosing not to dignify that with a response as she walks over to the mirror behind her door to see for herself. Anya had done Lexa’s makeup earlier, citing that if Lexa wanted to finally get the girl (the _right_ girl, Anya reminded) then she needed to not look like she had just rolled out of bed (even though that was exactly what Lexa had just done), and all of Clarke’s primping had left her hair falling loosely over her shoulders in purposeful waves. That, combined with Clarke’s outfit choice, and Lexa actually looked, dare she say it, hot. 

“All right, enough checking yourself out. We’ve got a party to get to,” Anya announces, shoving Lexa out of the way to leave the room. “I’m driving. No way am I getting into Griffin’s barely working Toyota.”

“Hey! Sheila runs just fine!” Clarke yells, but Anya’s already halfway down the hallway and passed the point of caring. “She’s a real treat, isn’t she?” Clarke grumbles and Lexa just shrugs, already used to the crassness that is her best friend. 

As Lexa moves to follow after Anya, she feels a tug on her wrist pulling her back. 

“Clarke?” she eyes Clarke questioningly, who, for whatever reason, suddenly looks shy. 

Clarke runs her thumb softly along Lexa’s wrist; Lexa tracks the movement with her eyes, breathing in sharply at the way her skin tingles from Clarke’s touch. She opens her mouth to speak, but the moment passes, Clarke letting go of her wrist.

“I just wanted to say that you look really good. Costia’s a lucky girl,” Clarke states quietly.

“Clarke…”

Clarke gives her a reassuring smile and swiftly walks passed her. And just like that, whatever was happening between them is over just as soon as it started.

“Now let’s go get you the girl!”

The drive to the party is occupied mostly by Anya and Clarke arguing over which band is more iconic: Fall Out Boy or Paramore. Lexa is content to listen to the two of them bond in that weird way only someone who had a pop punk phase could. When they get there, the party is already in full swing. The heavy thump of the bass of whatever popular EDM song that’s playing is enough to make Lexa’s head hurt and the sheer amount of sweaty bodies around almost has Lexa immediately turning around in the direction they came. It’s only Clarke and Anya holding onto either side of her that stops her. 

“I’m going to find us some drinks,” Anya calls, yelling to be heard over the music. She doesn’t wait for Clarke or Lexa to acknowledge her before she disappears into the crowd.

Clarke leans towards her, mouth almost at Lexa’s ear. “Come on,” she says, breath hitting Lexa’s skin in a way that has Lexa repressing a shudder, “let’s go find Costia.”

“Clarke,” Lexa tries, attempting to tug her arm back from where Clarke has it in a hold, already dragging her through the throngs of people in search of Lexa’s supposed crush. Clarke’s on a mission though and when she’s determined enough, nothing can get in her way. Lexa just wishes she had the foresight to decide to tell Clarke the truth before the party lest she find herself in a potentially awkward situation like she’s sure to now. 

“Clarke,” Lexa repeats, successfully managing to pull Clarke back towards her. Clarke stumbles into Lexa, bracing her hands against Lexa’s shoulders to stop herself. 

“Wha-” Clarke starts, eyes looking into Lexa’s curiously.

It’s strange, they’re in a crowd full of people and yet Lexa’s never felt closer to her than in this moment. 

“Clarke,” Lexa whispers and there’s no mistaking the gentle way Lexa says her name. 

Lexa watches Clarke’s eyes widen minutely. They stare at each other for a long moment, close enough that their breath mingles together. When Lexa breathes out, Clarke breathes in, as if she’s stealing the air directly from Lexa’s lungs. Lexa places one hand on Clarke’s waist, raises her other arm to grasp at one of Clarke’s wrists, skin soft and at the mercy of Lexa’s thumb. 

“Lex..” Clarke trails, but Lexa never gets to hear whatever it is she’s about to say. Something seems to catch Clarke’s attention from over Lexa’s shoulders that has her immediately tensing in Lexa’s hold. Lexa follows her gaze while Clarke tries and fails to stop her. Standing behind them, leaning against the wall is Costia wrapped around another, taller girl. She must sense eyes looking at her because she turns and catches Lexa’s eyes. Costia excitedly waves, bouncing over to the two of them, the other girl following behind her. 

“Lexa!” Costia exclaims, wrapping Lexa in a tight hug. Her breath smells of alcohol and her pupils are dilated in a way that tells Lexa that’s not the only thing Costia’s indulged in that night. “You came! And you’re with Clarke!”

Costia wraps her arms around Clarke, who stiffly returns it. The girl who was with her stands next to Lexa, awkwardly sticking her hand out. 

“Hi, I’m Luna,” she introduces as Lexa meets her handshake. 

“Lexa,” she replies before Luna moves over to Clarke. 

“Luna,” she greets. Clarke looks like she’d rather do anything other than grab Luna’s hand but she does, tersely introducing herself.

“Well, isn’t this just great?” Costia beams, holding onto Luna’s arm. Luna gazes down affectionately at her and Lexa can’t help but feel happy that Costia has found someone who’s so obviously into her. 

“Yeah,” Clarke grits out, “It’s amazing,” and then she shoves passed the two of them to stalk down the hall. 

Costia looks after her in confusion. “Is she okay? Did I come on too strong?”

Lexa shakes her head, similarly perplexed. “Sorry about her,” she apologizes and then motions in the general direction Clarke walked off on. “I’m just going going to go check on her.”

She doesn’t wait for their response, already pushing passed the crowd of people to follow after Clarke. It takes her a while and she only gets lost once (trying to ask drunk teenagers for help proved to be a taxing event), but eventually she finds Clarke outside sitting on the hood of Anya’s car. 

“Hey,” Lexa calls so as to not startle her. She waits for Clarke’s nod of acknowledgement before she slips onto the car next to her. She nudges Clarke’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Clarke shrugs a shoulder. “I should be asking you that.”

Lexa arches a brow. “What do you mean?”

Clarke gestures in the direction of the house. “Costia and Luna? The way Costia was basically parading Luna around in front of you when she has to know that you like her. I mean, seriously, _what the fuck_? If she wasn’t interested she could have just said something, you know? She didn’t have to shove it in your face like that. And you!” Lexa’s eyes widen as Clarke rounds on her. “You were so nice and polite. She was doing all of that and you were still so kind. God, you don’t deserve that Lexa. You’re beautiful and amazing and the fucking smartest person I’ve ever met and yet she goes for that- that Luna, who probably doesn’t even a hold a candle to you! I can’t believe the nerve of her after all the things I told her about you. And yet she still just tosses you aside like nothing.”

Clarke’s eyes mist with what Lexa thinks are frustrated tears, but she turns away quickly, wiping at them angrily with the palm of her hand. “Whatever,” Clarke decides, “screw her. There’s a lot of other perfectly nice girls out there for you, Lex. You can do way better.”

“Clarke,” Lexa sighs amusedly, pleased at this turn of events because Clarke cares. She cares so much that the thought of the girl she thinks Lexa likes flaunting another relationship in front of her face is as painful to Clarke as she thinks it is to Lexa. 

“What?” Clarke asks grumpily, most likely wondering why Lexa isn’t more upset. 

Lexa grins, reaching for Clarke’s hand. Clarke’s mouth falls open, speechless for the first time in all the years Lexa’s known her. Her hand is warm against Lexa’s own and Lexa’s heart just feels so full with affection for this tornado of a girl.

“Clarke,” Lexa starts but before she can finally tell Clarke everything that’s been on her mind, she’s interrupted. A girl has stumbled over to them, Anya’s arm slung over her shoulders, her body slumped over. 

“I hate to interrupt whatever gay fiasco is going on here, but you should probably get Anya home.” 

Anya groans, head rolling back, and Lexa jumps up in alert. 

“Raven?” Clarke walks over to them, Lexa’s hand suddenly cold from where she’d dropped it. Lexa follows, pulling Anya’s other arm around her shoulders. 

She looks across Anya at Raven. “What happened to her?” 

“Idiot thought she would challenge some of the jocks to a keg stand contest. She won, of course, but she basically passed out right afterwards.” 

“Anya,” Lexa tsks, helping Raven ease her into the backseat of the car, She leans over her afterwards, buckling her in and pulling the keys from out of her pocket. 

“Thank you,” she says to Raven who just nods and turns to Clarke. 

“Hey, Griff, you promised me shots yesterday in AP Lit.” 

Lexa eyes Clarke who looks down bashfully. Clarke rubs at the back of her neck, apologizing regretfully, “Actually, I think I’m just going to head out with them.” She meets Lexa’s eyes shyly and Lexa bites back her creeping smile. 

Raven just shrugs, “Suit yourself. I’ll see you Monday.” She walks off back towards the party as Lexa walks around to the driver’s side.

She meets Clarke’s eyes briefly when she climbs in, but Clarke is quick to look away. Lexa almost thinks she sees Clarke turn away to hide a blush, but it’s too dark to be sure and she doesn’t want to get her hopes up unnecessarily.

They ride in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the quiet music playing and the occasional drunken babbles from Anya. When they arrive back at her house, they work together to carry Anya to the front door. 

“You can go home, if you want,” Lexa tells her, “I’ve got it from here.”

Clarke looks unsure, but Lexa insists, “Trust me, you won’t want to be around when she wakes up. She’s even worse hungover.”

That seems to convince Clarke who reluctantly steps back. She shoves her hands into the backpack of her jeans, watching as Lexa fishes around her own pockets for her house keys. 

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday?” Clarke asks as Lexa finally manages to get her keys out.

Lexa turns as much as she can with Anya hanging off her. “Of course.”

Clarke’s smile is blinding and before Lexa has time to react, she’s leaning over and placing a chaste kiss on Lexa’s cheek. 

“Take care, Lex,” she whispers, and just like that she’s off, climbing into her car parked on the street. Lexa watches her go, wondering if that really happened or if it was just a figment of her imagination. 

She’s in the middle of a slight gay panic when Anya groans again, reminding Lexa of where she is. Once Lexa’s got the door unlocked, she drags Anya over to the couch, setting her up with a trash can next to her head just in case. Lexa’s aunt and uncle are away on a business trip so Anya should be safe there for now.

“Sorry,” Anya mumbles as Lexa places a pillow under her head and a blanket over her.

“For what?” She questions absentmindedly, ready to ignore whatever drunken slur comes out of Anya’s mouth.

“Interrupting whatever was going on on the hood of my car.” 

Lexa’s thankful Anya’s eyes are still closed so she can’t make fun of Lexa for her reddened cheeks—not that Anya would even be sober enough to notice, probably. 

“We were just talking.”

“Uh huh,” Anya nods, sleepily, “Just tell her already. Or write a letter. You love sappy shit like that.” Anya rambles a few more unintelligible drunken murmurs before she’s out completely, hugging the pillow that was under her head close to her chest.

Lexa watches her for a second, stewing on what Anya just said to her, and realizes, much to her annoyance, that drunk or not, Anya had somehow given her the best advice. She’d never tell her that though—Anya would never let her live it down. 

Lexa foregoes sleep and starts planning instead.

\--

Monday feels like it takes forever to come around. Sunday had seen Lexa leaving her house early with the excuse of needing to run errands for her aunt and uncle. Anya had been too hungover to see Lexa’s lie for what it was, so Lexa was able to slip out relatively easily. It was before nine when she left, giving her plenty of time to put her plan into action. It didn’t take her as long as last time, but this time, Lexa didn’t have to think as hard. The fact that it came so easy told Lexa that this time it was for real. 

Lexa waits anxiously for Clarke to arrive, eying the locker before her like it’ll give her away. When she spots Clarke come into view, Lexa turns and walks the other way. She stops at the end of the hall, pulling her phone out so she doesn’t seem so suspicious. She looks up briefly and sees Clarke at her locker, putting in her combination. When she opens it, Lexa is quick to turn back down at her phone.

She stares determinedly down at her screen (her blank screen, but whatever, sue her she’s nervous), forcing herself to keep from looking up. It isn’t long before her phone is plucked from her hand. 

“Stop trying to fake being cool by pretending you’re on your phone,” Clarke admonishes, but she’s got a playful smirk on her face and an adorably affectionate look in her eyes. Lexa is left speechless. She swallows as Clarke holds up a piece of paper in her hand, scented and from the local Hallmark. “This wouldn’t by any chance have been placed in my locker by mistake, would it?”

Lexa only smiles. “No it would appear that was the correct locker this time.”

“Hmm,” Clarke hums, “Interesting.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, tugging Clarke closer to her by her arm. Clarke goes willingly, staring openly into Lexa’s eyes as Lexa tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She can hear her heart beating in her ears and wonders if Clarke can hear it too. 

“Lexa,” she whispers, searching Lexa’s eyes briefly. She seems satisfied with whatever it is she finds there, because not a second after she’s leaning in for the softest kiss of Lexa’s life. 

Clarke tastes like cherry chapstick. Her hands burn Lexa from where she’s gripping at Lexa’s shirt, her hair soft where Lexa runs her fingers through them. She lets out a quiet gasp when Lexa surges forward to kiss her harder, and Lexa’s dimly aware that this may not be appropriate for a school hallway. 

When they part, they’re both out of breath, and Lexa can’t resist pressing one last lingering kiss to Clarke’s forehead before she steps back. Clarke doesn’t let her go far, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s neck. She smirks teasingly. 

“Since summer school, huh?” 

Lexa groans, resting her forehead against Clarke’s. “Can’t we just appreciate that my letter to you was actually romantic and not at all Shakespearean?” Clarke gives her look, and Lexa relents. “Okay, so it was a little Shakespearean.” 

Clarke tips her head back in a laugh and Lexa follows the curve of her jaw. When her eyes return to Lexa’s it’s with such unbridled affection, Lexa can’t help but grin. 

“You’re a dork, you know that?” she shakes her head fondly, before backing away. “So since you’ve got such a hopeless crush on me, I guess the least I can do is take you out a date.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down playfully, “Come on, I know just the place.”

And with that, Clarke walks off, looking over her shoulder to beckon Lexa to follow her towards the parking lot. Lexa can only gawk, unsure of what to do. School hasn’t even started yet!

“Clarke,” Lexa calls, hurrying after her. “What about school? Clarke, we have school. Clarke.”

Clarke just ignores her, taking Lexa’s hand to pull her along, and Lexa goes willingly. If there’s anything she’s learned from all this, it’s that she’d follow Clarke anywhere, and she’s perfectly okay with that.

 

\--

**Author's Note:**

> a few things:
> 
> 1) i actually have no idea what's even sold in a Hallmark store
> 
> 2) i may have only looked over this once and i may have been a bit sleep deprived when i did it. c'est la vie, am i right?
> 
> 3) titled after [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moAt49poTUg) song


End file.
